


Plastic

by jamiecritchey



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2250033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiecritchey/pseuds/jamiecritchey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Simon discover something that Blair was keeping a secret from them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plastic

Plastic  
by Jamie Ritchey

 

Disclaimer: The characters of Jim and Blair do not belong to me, but to Pet Fly and Paramount.

Author's notes: Originally appeared in Essential Sentinel 4.

 

Mildly irritated at having to park so far away, Jim Ellison briskly strode down the sidewalk alongside his boss and friend, Simon Banks. Jim had left some files at his loft that were needed for a case, so after he and Simon had finished lunch, they had decided to swing by the loft to pick them up. Normally, the spaces outside his building were mostly empty during the early afternoon hours, but today they overflowed with cars, forcing him to park over two blocks down the street and around the corner.

Simon abruptly halted their progress with one hand on Jim's chest and the other pointing at a silver Saturn parked across the street.

"Isn't that Connor's car?", he asked.

Jim focused his Sentinel vision on the license plate of the car in question.

"Yeah, it is", he answered, puzzled. "What's she doing here? I thought she said she had some 'woman' thing to do this afternoon."

Before Simon could comment, Jim spotted his partner's Volvo just a few spaces down from Connor's car. Gently slapping Simon on the shoulder, he pointed out the car.

"There's Sandburg's heap over there. He told me he had some function he had to attend. He called it a 'tribal gathering' that he wanted to study for its 'unique modality of modern societal social conventions and its resonance to primitive cultures' hunter/gatherer techniques'."

"Sounds like more of Sandburg's BS", Simon said, more than a little annoyed. "If Connor's here, his tribal gathering is starting to look like a tribe of two. I'm afraid I'm going to have to reinforce my non-fraternization lecture, though I thought Connor had better sense."

Shaking his head as he opened the entrance to the building, Jim focused his hearing on his third floor loft, wondering just how much fraternization they might be walking in on. Expecting the low murmurs of an afternoon tryst, he was surprised to find the buzz of several voices, several female voices.

"Damn, Simon. It sounds like he's got a whole harem up there", Jim said. He and Simon rode the elevator in silence, various scenarios tumbling through their minds.

The hubbub inside the loft apartment hid the sound of Jim's key opening the door from the occupants. He and Simon stepped inside, open mouthed with stupefaction. Their wildest imaginings couldn't live up to what they found. Some very familiar women were clustered around the coffee table, chatting animatedly while filling out some paperwork. Another woman, this one a total stranger, was packing plastic containers neatly away in a large carrying case. Blair was flitting around the couches, refilling glasses from a large frosty pitcher and snatching dirty plates and napkins almost before they were finished being used.

Jim loudly cleared his throat, the rough grumbling sound reverberating throughout the loft. That startled an obliviously bustling Blair who jumped up and whirled around toward the unexpected noise, creating a centrifugal force cascade of lemonade over the rim of the pitcher he was holding.

"Jim! Simon! What are you doing here?" Blair sputtered. "You're supposed to be in interviews with the DA on the Latresa case all afternoon."

Blair smiled weakly as he scuttled over to the kitchen island to put down the pitcher, depositing the soiled paper napkins in a handily placed trash can and fussily stacking plates in the sink. Grabbing a towel, he raced back into the living room to wipe up the spill.

The circle of women roosting on the couches looked up and waved, then returned to their furious scribbling on the papers in front of them, impervious for the most part to the interruption. Jim and Simon gaped at the familiar faces of women they worked with every day. There was Megan, or course, Serena from Forensics, Rhonda, who had told Simon she needed the afternoon off for personal business, Vera from Personnel, and even Samantha, who had vowed to Blair to never darken his door again. The biggest surprise of all was the appearance of Chancellor Edwards, who apparently had been powdering her nose when they had first arrived. Jim bristled at the pinched face she made as she scurried past him, as if a Sentinel's bathroom couldn't possibly meet her standards of cleanliness.

Blair picked that moment to dart back to the kitchen but Jim's firm grip on his arm brought him to a screeching halt.

"What the hell is going on here, Sandburg?" Jim exploded. "Is this the 'tribal gathering' you said you wanted to study? A TUPPERWARE PARTY!? IN MY LIVING ROOM!?"

"Sshh, keep your voice down", Blair hissed, turning Jim around so that his glare wouldn't frighten his guests. He threw the women a conciliatory grin, then led Jim and Simon further into the kitchen. Several serving platters holding the remains of well picked-over fruit and cookies were scattered over the kitchen island. Simon checked everything out carefully, then picked up a clean plate and started helping himself to whatever was left.

Jim glowered at him. "We just ate!"

Simon just shrugged his shoulders. "No sense letting this go to waste."

Jim dismissed Simon and turned back to his unrepentant roommate. "I can't believe you're hosting a Tupperware party. And Why! Why would you want to do this in the first place?"

"C'mon, Jim. It's no big deal. I was going to have everything all cleaned up before you got home. Megan is my co-host and she's going to help me. And the reason for the party was that we needed some new stuff. Our old containers are getting a little worn out. You're so anal about using them, color coding the leftovers and all, that I just decided, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."  
Blair was actually smirking.

"Okay, Chief", Jim backpedaled verbally. "We do need some new stuff. And I have no problem with most of the women you've invited. But SAM? And how did you get Chancellor Edwards down from her ivory tower and willing to spend time in the same room with you?"

Blair leaned towards Jim conspiratorially. "The chancellor doesn't like it to get around, but she likes to bring her lunch to work in the little divided sandwich containers. And she just has to have a different coffee commuter mug for every day of the week. Refuses to use the same one two days in a row."

"That doesn't explain Sam", Jim said, crossing his arms.

"Well, Sam sorta invited herself", Blair said with a grimace. "She told Serena that she wasn't going to let a little thing like hating my guts keep her from getting a new set of cranberry colored casserole dishes." Blair shuddered with theatrical fervor. "Eww, cranberry. I can't believe she likes that color."

Simon wandered from the kitchen, loaded plate in hand, to look over the samples that the Tupperware representative had stopped stacking in her carrying case long enough to show him a few pieces. Not wanting to miss a potential sale, she was pressing a catalog into his hand between bites. The other women, having finished filling out their order forms and writing their checks, were starting to leave. They each gave Blair a hug and a little peck on the cheek, except for Sam who smiled a predatory grin, and, carefully walking around Jim, made their way out of the loft.

Blair followed them to the door and waved as they waited for the elevator.

"Thanks for coming. Don't forget to give catalogs and order forms to all your friends", he called after them sweetly, then closed the door, an avaricious gleam in his eyes.

Jim was slowly shaking his head, a bemused look on his face. "Only you, Chief. But what about house rule number twenty-five, no women in the loft?"

"No, no. That's no sex in the loft", Blair protested, his hands waving, index fingers pointing in the air. After pausing for a few seconds, he continued, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought. "Of course, it could be argued that this is better than sex."

"What!" Jim exclaimed, totally flummoxed.

"Well, with all the sales I'm going to get out of this party, you won't believe all the stuff I'm gonna get for free." Blair patted Jim on the stomach, then started to clean up the leftover food. He glanced over to the living room and saw Simon sandwiched on the couch between Megan and Trish, the Tupperware rep. They were double teaming him, pointing out how fresh his cigars would stay in their airtight cylinders.

Jim swiveled his head in Blair's direction. "Free?"

Blair grinned and handed him a catalog as he walked over to the coffee table to begin picking up the refuse there. He could hear Jim flipping through the pages and after a few seconds Jim began muttering about the Modular Mates storage containers. The catalog pictures of them lined up in neat little rows were something he knew Jim would not be able to resist. Oh yes, Blair was going to clean up in more ways than one.

The End


End file.
